


'Win a Date with Hunk Garrett!'

by GayKiba



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Balinese Allura (Voltron), Hunk/his own anxiety, M/M, Trans girl Pidge | Katie Holt, Vietnamese Keith (Voltron), arranged dating AU, boyfriend application AU, roller derby Keith, what do you even call this??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9596894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayKiba/pseuds/GayKiba
Summary: After Lance and Pidge execute a stupid and embarrassing mission to try and get Hunk a date, Hunk is stumped over what to do with the only person who applied.Who also just so happened to be Lance’s “biggest rival”.





	1. 'Win a Date With Hunk Garrett!'

**Author's Note:**

> I'm OBSESSED with Heith; I think it's just a super-cute pairing and I love it.
> 
> Anyway here's an AU where Keith would also like to love it too.

Hunk wasn’t speeding, which he was actively proud of himself for, considering how dire the circumstances were. Sure, he was maybe two kilometres above the speed limit, but given his current need, that was impressive! He had great self-restraint.

 

The same could not be said for Pidge and Lance.

 

Admittedly, they were his best friends; emphasis on “were” in the past-tense, given that Lance had sent him a photo over snapchat of the pair of them, grinning, below a paper sign that read _‘Win a date with Hunk Garrett!’_ , complete with a cut out picture of his face. Lance had proudly captioned it _‘My greatest work!!’_.

 

Hunk’s hands tightened on the wheel as he fought not to press harder on the accelerate. He just couldn’t _believe_ those two! Sure, he’d expressed _some_ interest in maybe finding a boyfriend this year; and sure, he’d laughed at the mock-up “Hunk Garrett’s boyfriend application” Lance had cajoled Pidge into making on photoshop, and sure, he’d absolutely given his consent to them trying their damnedest at their welcome stall during orientation week to hand out said applications, but…

 

Oh. Well, maybe he _could_ believe those two. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.

 

It took him twenty minutes to find a park, and another fifteen to find their stall (Allura, their robotics association captain, had tasked them both with being stuck there for the day); by the time he’d shown up he was red in the face and scowling, horrified by the amount of people who had pointed him out as he passed.

 

“You two!” He growled, grabbing the stupid poster Lance had made and yanking it down, hunching his shoulders up at the sound of laughter behind him. “Are in _so_ much trouble-”

 

As he screwed up the paper, muttering, he realized Pidge and Lance hadn’t actually said anything; no laughing, no cat-calling. They were just gaping at him, wide-eyed, the megaphone in Lance’s hand (oh, of course Lance had brought a _megaphone_ ) hanging loose by his side.

 

It took some of the mortified fire out of him. “What? Did you seriously not think I was going to-?”

 

“ _Hunk ohmygod LOOK!_ ” Lance suddenly burst out, launching himself over the table and grabbing the front of his shirt even as Hunk flinched back in surprise. Pidge was suddenly on her feet, babbling, glasses reflecting the light harsh enough to blind.

 

“Hunk Jesus CHRIST here _here_ read this-” Pidge babbled, dashing around the table to pop up by his elbow, shoving a piece of paper into his hands.

 

Bewildered, Hunk held off his angry dressing-down to straighten out the paper- one of the applications -and frowned at how they’d also put his face on this, too. Then, his eyes popped open as he registered that-

 

_Someone had filled it out._

 

“What?! What?!” He looked down at Pidge, who was wide-eyed and intensely focusing on him, to swing around to face Lance, who was indicating needlessly at the application. “Who-?! What?!” He gasped out, brain short-circuiting a little as he stared back at the paper.

 

“It went like this, alright-” Pidge began immediately:

 

—

 

“ _That’s right, folks! Step right up! Fill in your form and see if_ you _could win a date with the one, the only; Hunk Garrett!”_ Lance announced, the megaphone making his voice even harder to ignore than usual. “ _What about you lovely ladies? Ever fancy a chance with a handsome and daring- hey, hey, where’re you going?!”_ Lance yelped, as the pair of girls giggled to each other and sped past them.

 

Pidge, slumped over the table and propping her face up in one hand, flicked the unused pen, despondent. This had seemed like _such_ a fantastic idea last night and also during set-up this morning; Hunk had even said it was fine with him! But now, after everyone who’d seen them had either snapped a picture from a distance or laughed, Pidge was starting to regret it. It was like they were making fun of Hunk!

 

Hunk, who was, like, the nicest if most anxious guy she’d ever met! He was 1.) Funny, 2.) Smart, and 3.) A fantastic cook. He was the perfect man! She scowled as a group of people stopped nearby and, laughing, took a picture. They had _no idea_ who they were missing out on… and she was starting to feel really bad about doing this.

 

She glowered off to the other side of the group, too angry to even look at them, and paused when she spotted a moderately familiar red bolero jacket, heading down the path in front of them.

 

“Hey, Lance, isn’t that Keith?” She called, stopping him mid-charade, announcing a long-winded story about how Hunk had single-handedly pushed a car to the nearest mechanic and fixed it himself, too (that one had actually happened, so Pidge was a little regretful).

 

Predictably, Lance looked around for him immediately, spotted him, and gasped, outraged. “He better keep walking if he knows what’s good for him,” Lance hissed venomously, and Pidge indulgently nodded along. At some point, Lance had learned that his favourite Professor, Takashi Shirogane, had a younger brother, Keith Kogane, who was also in the same degree, in the same year, and in all the same classes as him. They’d got along terribly and with great hostility ever since.

 

Unfortunately, Keith’s eyes slid over to give their table a sidelong glare, before roaming over to their poster- Lance’s handiwork. Pidge watched, frowning, as Keith stopped mid-step, half-turned, and really _stared_ at their poster (that Lance had made). Pidge was confused, but Lance had made a decision to resolutely ignore Keith; he bodily turned himself away from him and started yelling a list of Hunk’s greatest attributes.

 

Keith zeroed in on Pidge and strode up to her. “Is it just the one page?”

 

“What,” She bleated, hunkering down slightly. Guy was _intense_.

 

“Is the application just the one page.” He pointed to the untouched stack in front of her.

 

“… Yeees,” She said, very carefully, and gave Lance’s turned back a long look as Keith calmly took one, stared at it a moment, and- she swore she wasn’t hearing things -let out an actual _laugh_ before turning heel and striding away from them.

 

Pidge’s jaw dropped, unable to do much more than stare mutely at his retreating back. Keith beelined for a nearby outdoor table, which only had two other people sitting there, and slapped the paper down in it. He slung his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it, rooting around inside before he pulled out a pencil case. Then, shoulders hunched, he got to work.

 

Pidge’s brain was working a mile a minute, torn between internal screaming and the need to draw Lance’s attention to this possible mirage? This could-be illusion? She found herself glancing frantically from Keith’s bent shoulders to Lance’s turned back.

 

In the end, she just reached over and slapped a hand, _hard_ , in between Lance’s shoulder-blades. “ _Oww!_ What?!” He hissed, spinning around and shoving his face in her personal space, in true Lance fashion.

 

Wide-eyed, Pidge frantically indicated to Keith’s turned back, waving a finger at him. Lance followed her line of sight and scowled, grumbling; “What? What’s so great about Keith’s back?” Lance frowned down at Pidge in surprise. “What? Why’re you freaking out-?”

 

Pidge let out a tiny, strained sound and dropped her hand immediately as Keith turned around and stalked straight towards them. Lance, hackles raised, was about to say something he no doubt thought was very cutting before Keith held the application out to Pidge, folded in half neatly between two fingers. Lance gagged in silent horror as Pidge accepted the form.

 

Keith glanced at him, then back at Pidge, before flicking his gaze up to the sign, which was Lance’s creation. Quick as a flash, he whipped out his phone and took a picture of it before turning and striding away, staring down at his screen with intent.

 

“… What just happened?” Pidge whimpered.

 

—

 

“Aand that’s what happened!” Lance finished with a flourish, jaw dropped in a ‘can you believe it??’ sort of way. Pidge, looking stricken, just took another long draught of the coffee Hunk had bought her. Hunk, who was significantly less mad now that he’d shoved the stupid poster and the stack of application forms in the nearest trashcan, was sceptical.

 

“So, the guy who apparently hates you-”

 

“We have a _rivalry!_ "

 

“-just _happened_ to come across your dumb set-up and just _happened_ to fill out one of your dumb forms?” Hunk folded his arms. “Alright. Sure.”

 

Pidge, who had by now drained her coffee, slammed the empty cardboard cup on the table. “Well he _did_ and I’m _freaking out!_ Like, did that seriously even happen?! I don’t think that even happened!” Pidge pushed herself onto the back of her chair legs and swung her arms wide.

 

Hunk sighed, scowling and determined not to roll his eyes. He wouldn’t give their theatrics the satisfaction. “Well, to check, why don’t you just show me the application form?”

 

Pidge and Lance shared a look. As Pidge let all four of her chair legs fall flat, Lance swiped up the folded paper from the table in front of her. With an unnecessarily solemn expression, he held it out to Hunk.

 

Hunk really did roll his eyes this time, and took it as he came around the table to stand between them, both of them leaning over his arms to read over his shoulder.

 

* * *

 

                                                              

 

* * *

 

It was Hunk’s turn to be a mute, gaping mess. Pidge let out a low whistle. Lance muttered something like ‘rivals’ and ‘stupid cool’.

 

Hunk turned frantically to Pidge, dropping his head down closer to her. “He seriously filled this out?! You’re not just messing with me?!”

 

Pidge actually looked offended. “What?! Of course not! Not with this! This is important! I spent five bucks printing all those forms!” Hunk glowered at her at the reminder. “Anyway, Lance, do you seriously have his contact info?”

 

Lance pulled a face at the question. “What? Yeah, I mean, probably; we did a group presentation together like last semester- why?” He asked suddenly, looking shrewdly from one to the other.

 

Hunk threw his hands up; it wasn’t like _he_ was asking for it, he still didn’t know how he felt about this mess in the first place. Pidge, however, just waved the form and insisted until Lance dug his phone out of his pocket and pulled it up. She wrote it underneath the appropriate boxes, and then shoved it in her bag.

 

Hunk felt slightly offended, until he decided that no, he wasn’t going to indulge these two and their embarrassing little show, so he didn’t care what Pidge did with Keith’s form. Pidge then cajoled them into helping pack up their side of the table (Hunk had also come down because, admittedly, they’d planned to have him pick them up after and he was still going to do that), and stopping to get more overpriced coffee from the on-campus café before heading for Hunk’s trusty ute.

 

“Ugh!” Lance groaned as he clambered in after Pidge. “Why don’t you get an upgrade for this thing? Get a _real_ car! Like me!” He added with a huge, smug grin.

 

Pidge scoffed, and Hunk waved a hand at him with superiority. “Sorry I don’t wanna deal with the hassle of servicing a vintage mini cooper? Anyway, you needed my car to get all the stuff down here!” Lance just laughed him off; his mini cooper had been both Hunk’s passion project and birthday present for two years.

 

“Get a moped! Like me!” Pidge chimed in, and Hunk shook his head at the thought of himself on one of those things. “Hey; mopeds are cool!”

 

“They’re really not!” Lance howled with laughter, slumping against the window as Pidge rounded on him, going off onto a tangent about fuel efficiency and safety Hunk had to tune out to focus on driving. Even through all the continuous garbage they have each other about their perceived lesser vehicles, they all knew they’d never actually trade them up for the world.

 

As Hunk parked in his driveway, he hesitated climbing out, struck with an odd thought; did Keith feel the same way about his motorbike? He’d named it, even; Hunk had affectionately termed his trusty flatbed ute “Yellow”, after her bright paintjob. Lance always claimed he thought it was garish; would Keith like it?

 

Hunk hoped he would.

 

He blinked, then shook his shoulders, climbing out of the driver’s seat. That was… well, it wasn’t like he was ever gonna _ask_ him, now was it?

 

“Huunk, hurry uup!” Lance wailed in mock-dramatics, already waiting by his front door with Pidge. Hunk laughed quietly and jogged over to them.

 

They greeted his older brother in the kitchen and popped their heads into the lounge room to say hi to his mother before clambering upstairs. Pidge pulled out her laptop to play video games (she’d gotten the new Resident Evil, and Lance was watching her play in over her shoulder and through his fingers) while Hunk just fell backwards onto his bedspread, thoroughly exhausted by his friend’s antics yet again.

 

“You’re just too high-strung dude,” Lance teased him. “You just gotta _AH OH MY GOD OH MY GOD KILL IT PIDGE KILL IT!_ ” Lance shrieked, making Hunk startle badly. He raised his head slightly to stare at the two of them, now both screaming as Pidge shot some kind of monster, before sighing deeply and letting his head fall back.

 

At least Hunk knew Lance was partially right; Hunk was a high-strung, anxious guy who overthought everything. It made him really good at his degree, but a little hopeless at cutting loose. Lance and Pidge helped, but it wasn’t like Hunk was unhappy with how he was, so there was only so much they could do. Like jump at the chance to help him catch a date all because he’d mentioned maybe wanting one in passing. They were good to him like that; they were also good at embarrassing him, but Hunk supposed he could live with that too.

 

Still. He thought about the form in Pidge’s bag. They always wanted him to take a risk on their dumb ideas, right?

 

All too soon (Hunk had dozed off), Pidge and Lance were packing up to head home. Hunk walked them to his front door, yawning and stretching.

 

“See ya later dude,” Lance said, pulling him into a hug that Hunk completed by briefly lifting him off his feet.

 

“See ya buddy,” Pidge added, squeezing him tightly. “I left your stuff on your desk, alright?”

 

“Uh, okay, cool,” Hunk acknowledged, scouring his sleep-addled brain to remember what he’d lent Pidge. He ruffled her hair. “Thanks guys. I’ll text you!”

 

He waved at them from the stoop as they headed to Lance’s vibrantly blue mini cooper. Hunk headed back upstairs, his family all turned in for the night, and went through a mental checklist of what he had to do tomorrow; trade off all the welcome stuff to Allura when she came over, check Yellow’s oil-

 

Hunk paused, eyes widening as he spotted what Pidge had left on his desk.

 

An application form, folded in half.


	2. 'HI I’M KEITH KOGANE AND I CAN FIT MY ENTIRE FOOT DIRECTLY INTO MY MOUTH.'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clapping his hands over his face, Hunk groaned loudly, then picked up his phone. He put it down, scrubbed his hands through his hair, and then picked it up again. He reached for the folded paper, then paused, then shook himself and grabbed it.
> 
> There. Halfway done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my Gosh! Thank all of you for liking this so much! I'm very proud of my form, and you can find it here on my writing blog:  
> http://gayshino.tumblr.com/post/156875571900/would-you-like-to-apply-for-the-chance-to-win  
> and fill it out for yourselves!
> 
> I've put Hunk on the left and whoever he's talking to on the right just so it's easier to follow in written format.

Hunk, in spectacular Hunk fashion, did not contact Keith; rather, he agonized over the potential ramifications in bed until he fell asleep, then woke up, saw the piece of paper, and fretted all through breakfast. One of his brothers even leaned in and asked him about it, confused and concerned, which meant he was being more anxious than usual.

 

“I’m good! Just, you know… Lance,” He finished, lamely, but he snorted a laugh and let him be with that.

 

By mid-morning, Hunk decided that his best course of action was to text Pidge.

 

_WHAT THE HELL WERE U THINKING??_

_Morning 2 u 2_

_WHAT AM I GONNA DO WITH HIS NUMBER??_

_CALL HIM??_

_WHY? HOW? LANCE!!_

_Who cares abt Lance! Just text him or smth!_

 

Hunk decided that he needed a bigger word limit to berate Pidge over her bad decision and logged on to their messaging program. Since Pidge was awake, she was already online, too.

 

_I cant just date a guy Lance hates!!_

_Lance doesn’t even hate him he’s just bein dumb  
He says nice things about him sometimes_

_Still!_

_Hunk, he took a pic of ur pic! He knows what u look like so what r u gonna do when he runs into u and asks u about not calling him??_

_Lie and say Lance didnt give me his info??_

_Really._

_NO…_

_Just text him_

_I dunno_

_He seems like an ok guy_  
_Lance doesn’t really hate him_  
_He thinks ur handsome_  
_what’s the big deal??_

_EVERYTHING??  
you know me_

_I do!_  
_That’s why I’m TELLING you to text that guy_  
_because ur gonna regret being mean to him and snubbin him by next week_

 _UGH you know me so well_  
_fine ill do it_  
_love you_  
_bye don’t talk to me til I do it ok im gonna go do it right now bye_

 

Hunk went so far as signing out, so that maybe Lance wouldn’t talk to him and make him chicken out, or maybe so he didn’t just message Pidge more and straight up not do it. Clapping his hands over his face, Hunk groaned loudly, then picked up his phone. He put it down, scrubbed his hands through his hair, and then picked it up again. He reached for the folded paper, then paused, then shook himself and grabbed it.

 

There. Halfway done. Hunk let out a long breath and smoothed it out over his wide thigh. Pidge’s chicken-scratch handwriting was familiar, while Keith’s heavier hand made him more nervous than ever.

 

“Just enter his number,” He said to himself, willing his fingers to do just that. “Just get that far, alright? Just do that,” He said, to psyche himself up, and sighed in relief when he did.

 

Then he jumped a mile in the air when he got a text. It was from Pidge.

 

_STOP THINKING AND START TYPING!!!!!_

 

Hunk worried at his bottom lip, glaring at the screen, before he took a deep breath and nodded to himself. You know what? Pidge was right! He had to just- just do this!

 

Desperately trying not to think, Hunk quickly typed up a new text.

 

_Hi Keith! Lance gave me your number. It’s Hunk. What’s up?_

 

Hunk panicked briefly over what he’d just typed (was it weird somehow? What if Keith never responded? Would Lance be mad at him?) then finally threw in the towel and hit ‘send’.

 

Hunk heard a high-pitched whine in his ears as he stared at the screen, mute with the horror that _yes, he had actually sent that text_ , when his brother banged on his bedroom door, almost scaring him out of his skin.

 

“HUNK! What’re you doing in there?!” Hunk realized that the sound had actually been coming from _him_ , and shut up. “Mum wants you to put some washing on,” He continued, before Hunk heard his footsteps walking away over the sound of his own hammering heart.

 

Hunk pressed a hand to his chest, wondering if he could finally worry about having a heart attack, before he got up to head downstairs to the laundry. Housework was a welcome distraction from his own thoughts.

 

He hesitated at the doorway, then stomped back to his bed and snatched up his phone. He wasn’t going to wait for Keith to text back; he was just going to freak out at Pidge some more, or something. Shoving it in his pocket, he hurried through the kitchen to the small back room that held their washing machine and the back door of the house, and started sorting the washing basket into piles. There were a lot of whites, which was important, because if he was thinking about how he had to add more stain remover, then he wasn’t thinking about how Keith hadn’t texted him back in five minutes.

 

… Or wasn’t _supposed_ to be thinking about that.

 

Hunk scuffed his hands through his hair frantically, snatched up his phone, and pulled up Pidge in his messages, preparing to type something unnecessarily biting in his panic, before his phone buzzed with a text notification.

 

An unknown number; the exact same number he’d just texted.

 

Keith.

 

Hunk almost threw his phone.

 

_Morning Hunk. It’s good to hear from you. I just finished my morning jog. You?_

 

Hunk gaped, looked fruitlessly left and right at nothing, gaped at his screen again, then grimaced in horror at having to continue the conversation. _‘Don’t overthink it!’_ He thought desperately, and started tapping.

 

_Chores! Just helping around the house._

 

He didn’t send it just yet; it felt… not enough? Like it didn’t continue the conversation? Was he overthinking it again? He thought back to the form, then had a brilliant idea.

 

_I like that you named your bike!_

 

Feeling slightly better about that, but still frowning, Hunk sent it. He was trying not to _over_ think, but regular thinking was okay, right?

 

Hunk put his phone down and went back to the washing, loading it in the machine, adding washing powder, and turning it on. He grabbed his phone as he headed out of the back room and into the kitchen. He almost gasped aloud when he realized Keith has texted him _twice already_ , and hurried to open them.

 

_Honestly I’m glad to hear it. She’s my pride and joy. Like I know she’s DEADLY but it’s like a dangerous and seductive part of her you know??_

_You know what I’m just gonna apologise outright that was… I don’t know what that was sorry_

 

Hunk bit his lip to keep from laughing, and let a small wheeze escape him when he received another text.

 

_I REALLY DO TAKE THAT BACK JUST ERASE IT. DON’T EVEN LOOK AT IT._

 

For the first time all morning, Hunk knew exactly what he wanted to say, and wasn’t at all stressed out about typing and sending it.

 

_Yknow what? I think I can look past that._

_And I mean if I can look past you calling your bike “seductive” then this is going well!_

 

Hunk laughed quietly, putting his phone on the kitchen bench before going to the fridge and fishing out eggs, bread and milk to make some breakfast. As he whisked the eggs and milk together with some cinnamon and sugar, he caught his screen lighting up. He paused long enough to check it, then has to put it on the bench and lean against the edge, shoulders shaking with laughter.

 

_IF YOU SERIOUSLY CALL THIS SORT OF THING GOING WELL, THEN WE MUST BE OFF TO A FANTASTIC START. HI I’M KEITH KOGANE AND I CAN FIT MY ENTIRE FOOT DIRECTLY INTO MY MOUTH._

 

—

 

For the rest of the week, Hunk alternated between robotics meetings, reading the chapters needed for lectures at the start of the new semester, and texting Keith.

 

Keith wasn’t one for starting conversations, but he seemed pretty gung-ho about continuing them. He always responded with interest to Hunk’s picture texts of what he was up to, or something he saw. Pidge had picked up volunteer shifts for her academic performance with one of her professors and Lance worked when he could at his uncle’s corner store, so Hunk, who mostly focused on school to keep his anxiety in check, was glad to have someone to talk to who didn’t seem as busy with important work as his best friends.

 

Keith opened up slowly, and seemed to prefer being invited to share something rather than asked outright. Hunk now knew that Keith kept a strict schedule of morning jogs, gym workouts and various exercises because he was part of the national roller derby team; they completed _internationally!_ Hunk was more than impressed.

 

 _‘You should come watch a bout sometime,’_ Keith texted him. _‘I can send girls twice my height from one side of the track to the other :)’_ He played on both men and women teams, though his league, Castle of the Lions Roller Derby (which, Hunk discovered, was shortened into ‘CLRD’; the abbreviation he’d put on his application form), had only one women’s team.

 

Though he wasn’t great with answering questions, Keith was just fine with asking them. Hunk told him about his hobbies (robotics and cooking), and received a flurry of questions in response.

 

 _‘Have you ever thought about being a professional chef?’_ Keith had asked him, unknowingly opening a big can of worms in the process.

 

_‘I could never! Do you know most professionals just stop cooking outside of work? That sounds like a nightmare! I couldn’t live like that!! I just couldn’t!!’_

 

Hunk had been worried about coming off a little too strong, but Keith had only taken so long to reply because he was looking for a recipe video of Jamie Oliver making porridge with water. _‘So I tried this once right and it was DISGUSTING it had no texture but he was like ‘my wife makes this’ or something so is it like he’s just putting up with it so he doesn’t have to make it or what??’_

 

Hunk laughed, and told him to try adding a bit of butter after he finished making porridge. The string of hearts Keith had texted him the next morning had made his pulse speed up a little, even after he remembered the reason why.

 

It also made him remember how he’d gotten Keith’s number in the first place. This past week of getting to know Keith and finding him really enjoyable to be in contact with really set him thinking. He did like Keith. He wanted to go see one of his roller derby games and show him how to make diplomat cream.

 

But Lance was like, his best friend. He’d known him even longer than Pidge; some skinny brown kid and his larger, darker buddy. They called each other’s mother’s ‘auntie’. His older siblings teased Lance as much as they did himself.

 

Maybe Pidge was right. Maybe Lance _was_ putting it on; it did sound like him, who had only quit drama because he and the teacher had had “creative differences”. But Hunk couldn’t shake the thought that maybe Pidge was wrong, and it made Hunk feel terrible.

 

—

 

_Hey don’t get worried or anything but I have a question??_

_Do you want to go on a date._

_I’M ALSO COOL WITH JUST HANGING OUT AS FRIENDS I just like you but it’s cool if you don’t want to_

_Like really no pressure_

_I just liked you when I saw your picture and I like you even more now and I mean it’s how you got my number right so I was just thinking I’d ask_

_But I mean it it’s no big deal if you just want to be friends because I do want that I think you’re great  
_

_You know what I’ll just. Shut up._

 

Hunk had been staring at his screen for three minutes now. He knew because he was freaking out about it, continuously glancing at the clock and horrified that it just kept ticking over. It was already 1:08 and Hunk hadn’t texted back. They’d been texting all night, Hunk sending him random snippets from his text book and Keith taking pictures of his pulled apart skates because he was cleaning them. They’d eventually taken it to pushing each other to get ready for bed, and now, just as their conversation had been slowing down and Hunk was preparing to say goodnight and put his phone aside, Keith had sent him this and oh god now it was 1:09.

 

He had to say something! Anything! Hunk knew he did, and he knew he was putting Keith through some real horror right now, probably, but he just didn’t know what to say. He still had Lance to worry about, and all these other questions, and he’d been thinking about what if Keith was different texting than how he was in person, and what if Hunk didn’t click with him? And

 

He was just overthinking it again.

 

Hey, that was an idea. Hunk was an honest person in his interactions; as honest as he could be. And it had been a pretty good week, after all. They just meshed.

 

_Hey_

_I’m just thinking. Overthinking. It’s what I do_

 

Keith’s reply was immediate and probably a little frantic.

 

_Yeah I’ve noticed_

_I mean you really don’t have to say yes_

_That’s the thing. I want to say yes I think_

_It’s just that I don’t know how Lance feels about you and he’s my best friend_

 

Keith took longer to reply to that one.

_Lance? I don’t get it_

_I mean I’m friends with him too??_

_He was just over at my brother’s house with me yesterday_

 

Hunk felt a very cold, sinking feeling course through his arms, and he felt on the verge of both panic and anger when Keith texted something else.

 

_I mean yeah we argue a lot but it’s not serious I thought??_

_Is he taking it seriously??_

_I’m a little bad at reading moods_

_has he said something??_

_Well YES he said you were rivals and I thought maybe he didn’t want me to contact you??_

_he didn’t tell me you guys hung out!!_

 

Hunk was honestly about to go to Lance’s house and just throw him out of bed. Just pick him up, dump him on the floor and just leave him there. He’d probably consider it more seriously if he didn’t know Lance slept in nothing but his underwear and as such wouldn’t have any clothes to protect him for rug burn or something.

 

_Oh well I mean we do_

_is that okay?_

_Yeah of course I mean_

_I’m gonna have to have a talk with Lance for making me think that he didn’t like you_

_and also yes_

_I do wanna go on a date with you_

_if the offers still on the table after all this hah_

 

Hunk put his phone aside, covered his face with his hands, and breathed out. Slowly. He rolled off his side and onto his back. He glanced at his phone.

 

The screen had lit up.

 

 _‘Yes!’_ Keith had texted, bracketed by two red hearts.

 

Hunk really did throw his phone then.


End file.
